


Bark and Bite

by Patchouli (lifelesslyndsey)



Series: How To Teach An Old Dog New Tricks [13]
Category: Fantastic Four (Movies 2005-2007), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Tentacle Monsters, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 03:40:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13045740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifelesslyndsey/pseuds/Patchouli
Summary: “I’m just saying. Tentacle monsters. Actual tentacle monsters?” She eyes the lab dock, and the New York skyline. “Tentacle monsters in Central Park. Like...They’re just tentacles. I don’t get it. Where’s the rest of them? The weird hentai my high school boyfriend watched didn't actually cover that part  ”“I find it’s best if you don’t ask those kinds of questions.” Tony steps near the edge.  Technically he's supposed to be waiting for Nat with the Quintjet and the rest of the team, but he doesn’t see the point when he can fly. “Someone might answer them.”





	Bark and Bite

**Author's Note:**

> whoops got some feelings all up in this.

They’re two weeks from the Stark Expo when the Avengers are called to Assemble.  

 

“So...” Darcy leans against the railing, as Tony folds himself into the Iron Man suit. “Tentacle monsters.” 

 

Tony’s totally rolling his eyes behind the mask and Darcy knows him well enough that she doesn't actually have to see his face. “I don’t exactly pick the baddies, babe.” 

 

“I’m just saying. Tentacle monsters. Actual tentacle monsters?” She eyes the lab dock, and the New York skyline. “Tentacle monsters in Central Park. Like...They’re just tentacles. I don’t get it. Where’s the rest of them? The weird hentai my high school boyfriend watched didn't actually cover that part  ” 

 

“I find it’s best if you don’t ask those kinds of questions.” Tony steps near the edge.  Technically he's supposed to be waiting for Nat with the Quintjet and the rest of the team, but he doesn’t see the point when he can fly. “Someone might answer them.” 

 

The wind pulls at Darcy’s hair, and she hugs her cardigan closer around her body.  “Thor says they look familiar. He’s still in Norway with Jane.” She frowns at the Stark Pad. “Doc says he thinks they’re actually plants?” 

 

“Carnivorous tentacle plants.” Tony sighs. “Super. Awesome. Jarvis, you got anything on this?” 

 

_ “Bio Scans available offer no current comparable DNA although both brain activity and traces of chlorophyll were detected. ”  _

 

“So they’re animal, but also plant? Carnivorous tentacle animal plants? I mean...that seems like a lot. Ambitious but... Maybe pick one thing and be really good at it.” 

 

She's not listening, still frowning at the Stark Pad. “I think....Tony, I think I’ve read about these.” 

 

“Where---Oh. Really?” The fact that SHIELD has a file on tentacle monsters isn’t all that surprising. “Thoughts?” 

 

She looks away, like she's seeing both something that isn't there, and Tony's familiar.  He sees shit no one else does all the time, as it comes together in his brain. “I’m pretty sure they’re mostly considered food that also considers  _ you _ food.” She closes her eyes, and bites her lip and Tony can almost see her reading the words in her mind. “They don’t have a brain, but they have a complex nervous system. Or...I don’t know. I think they’re all brain? So cutting them up doesn’t do much good. They can regrow themselves.” 

 

_ “Any idea how to dispatch them?”  _ Cap asks, and Tony almost relays the question when  Darcy presses her finger to her com. She shouldn’t be on the Avengers Com, it’s a closed channel, and he suspects some Jarvis-esque intervention. 

 

“Might not be the job for you, Cap. They don’t have mouths - they’re covered in a toxin that dissolves and absorbs their food source, so no direct combat. Pretty sure they can’t fly, so an aerial attack would work best. Unconscious, they can burn, but if you try to burn them before, the acid will neutralize any heat source and double in potency,” Darcy says, decisively, gaining momentum on the memory.  Tony watches her fit puzzle pieces into place, as the memory comes together. “But electrical currents  _ should _ short their nervous system temporarily, so the EMP blasters could work. Keep them away from the ponds. They heal faster in water. Potentially, they can tunnel, so maybe something to trace heat signatures if they go underground. There’s nothing to say they can melt through metal, but I think maybe...Don’t solve that mystery.”

 

_ “Wheels up in two,” _ Nat cuts in, and Tony can feel the air shift as the Quintjet rises along side the tower.   _ “Clint’s stocking up on EMP and impact grenades.  We’ll take point. Tony; fly low. Cap---”  _

 

Steve huffs. _ “Civilian duty.”  _

 

“Try not to get melted,” Darcy suggests, blowing Tony a kiss as he steps off the dock. 

 

***

 

“Enemy fire,” he hisses, through clenched teeth.  Around him, the suit has shut down, shorted out, and Tony wishes he wasn’t so familiar with gravity at this point. “We’re battling acidic, carnivorous, tentacle monsters and you’re going to hit me with my own EMP blaster?” His suit is equipped to withstand EMP blasts, but not  _ six of them at once.   _

 

“I didn’t hit you,” Clint insists through the com. “I think we made friends.” 

 

The ground is fast approaching, and more importantly, a writing ball of acidic, flesh melting calamari. Because of course that’s where Tony’s going to land. Statistically improbable, but still going to happen.  “You know what,” Tony says, bracing himself for impact. “I’m not surprised. This has Reed’s name all over it.” 

 

_ “Doctor Reed is attempting to patch through the coms,”  _ Jarvis announces, through the secondary com in Tony’s ear. He’d learned his lesson the first time the suit shorted, and has since kept alternative avenues of communication open. Tony's got a limited visual through the eyepiece, but the view is from the quintjet, and skewed. He can see himself falling. 

 

He hears, even as he plummets into the soft, hissing tangle of tentacles,  _ “---don’t hurt them---”  _

 

“Oh fuck you,” Tony mutters, as the world goes dark.  He is in the tentacle mess. He is in the writing ball of acidic, carnivorous plant animal.  He can feel the suit heating, the faint ozone smell of slowly melting metal and yeah. This is not the mountain he wants to die on. “Someone tell Darce’ to update the file. These can totally melt through metal. If this weren’t titanium gold alloy---” 

 

_ “What’s the maximum heat the suit can withstand while down?”  _ Natasha asks. _ “We could hit the nest with our EMP and Clint’s still got impact grenades left.” _

 

_ “No! No!” _ Richard Reed’s voice cuts in. _ “We’re trying to take them alive---”  _

 

“No we’re not!” Tony will  _ fucking roast them and eat them _ , when he’s done here. “Do not set me on fire! Get me the fuck out of here!” Jesus Christ. Tony cannot die by tentacles. He cannot.  Out the corner of his eye, something sizzles and pops.  “I have, maybe eight minutes left before these things make it through the suit.  The ventilation systems open now, compromised by the electroflux, and the toxins are seeping through the unguarded channels. If you blast me with heat, the titanium isn’t going to withstand the corrosion from the acid much longer than a minute; the tensile strength of the suit is already weakened and heat increases the acidity.”  Fear, unwelcomed and dark, presses in around him. He doesn’t want to die in the suit. “Get me out before you do anything.” 

 

_ “Oh fuck this,”  _ Johnny Fucking Storm  - Flaming Asshat - says, and Tony just...Really does not like that guy.  _ “I’m going in.”  _

 

“Don’t,” Tony snaps, because Darcy said....Darcy said they couldn't be burned unless they were unconscious. “They’re still live. The acid---” 

 

The ozone, metal-melting smell intensifies significantly, and Tony knows without a doubt that Storm didn’t listen.  He can feel sweat rolling down the back of his neck, as the suit creaks and groans.  Acid, slick and smoking, oozes in a thin trickle down the side of the helmet and Tony shoves himself as far as he can to the other side. “They neutralize fire, you absolute fuck. And then they become more acidic.” 

 

_ “Um. I don’t mean to alarm anyone, but it looks like we made another friend.”   _ Clint’s voice is slightly strangled, and Tony figures that’s bad, considering the last friend shot him. _ “And I’m pretty sure it’s Darcy. And she’s in a jet.”  _

 

_ “Someone get the flaming pile of dog shit out of my way,”  _ Darcy’s voice crackles over the cop. “ _ I’m talking about Storm, not the tentacle things.”  _

 

Tony doesn’t know what happens next. It’s chaos, and nonsense and a lot of screaming. But he sees it, when she crosses paths with the quintjet. 

 

She’s in a prototype jet, slated to be shown at the expo. Small, sleek, every bit the flying car his father dreamed about it but with far better aerial capabilities.  It’s non-hostile transportation, not meant for fighting or even particularly aggressive flight. Flying low, Tony watches her  _ flip _ it, and force open the cockpit with her feet, legs pushing at the dome.  Her body hangs hard against the restraints as she physically throws something small, and duct taped.  It explodes as it hits the tentacle nest, in an explosion of thin, white dust.   The smell is volatile; seared flesh and...and soap.  Around him, the tentacle melt and ooze, collapsing in on themselves in a puddle of bubbling, sizzling goo. 

 

The first thing he sees when the mask is pried open, is Darcy’s face.  Her hair’s loose, flying in the wind, light catching behind her.  She’s in a --  _ Christ _ \-- a fucking catsuit. Black, and sleek, just like Nat’s with gloves to match. Tony’s certain he’s never seen her wear those  _ boots _ before. “Did you...Did you make a lye bomb?” 

 

“SHIELD has a six week course on bomb making. I can make a bomb out of anything,” she sniffs, sawing him out of the suit with a laser she must have stolen from the labs. “Wasn’t sure it would work. I thought the chemical makeup of their acid looked similar. It’s like the stuff Nat uses to melt clothes off, but stronger. Sodium hydroxide neutralizes a lot of acids, so...Listen, I was working on the fly, okay? Like literally. I made the bomb in the jet while Jarvis flew me over.” 

 

She's just so...so rude. And competent. And hot.  And saving his life. With chemicals. And cat suits.  And science. “I love you.” He’s said the words before, but he’s pretty sure he’s never meant them more in his entire life. 

 

She pulls him up out of the suit, throwing more lye down for him to walk across  “I said don’t get melted.” She digs her small hand into his forearm, as she pulls him away from the chaos.  

 

Once they’re outside the puddle of bubbling fuckery, Tony stops her.  She’s shaking all over, jaw clenched. Fear makes her angry, Tony realizes, and it’s a sentiment he’s all too familiar with. Her cheeks are red, and her hands are balled into fists at her side. “You said try not to get melted.” 

 

She looks like she has more to say to him, but can’t form the words for how pissed she is. Tony gets it. A lot of dumb calls were made today. Her head whips around, past him, and Tony doesn’t have a chance to stop her before she's storming off. 

 

Heh. Storming. 

 

“Damn, Darce,” Johnny Storm says, as she approaches. He’s grinning, and brushing the hair off his forehead like he isn’t about to have his ass handed to him in a paper bag. “You should have worn  _ that _ on our date.” 

 

Tony’s fairly sure Johnny doesn’t see the punch coming. Hell, Tony doesn’t.  Darcy drops the kid with one hit, knocking him clear to the ground even though she's easily a head shorter.  Her form is very Clint, and Tony makes a note to buy the guy a beer.  Or a brewery. 

 

“Is this because I didn’t call?” Johnny asks, from the ground where he’s cupping his jaw. “Because---” 

 

He’s barely finished the word, when Darcy draws a fucking gun on him.  Tony can’t tell where she pulls it from. It’s  _ big _ . It’s very, very big, and in Darcy’s very, very angry hands. “You incompetent fucking dick bag---” 

 

“Woah, woah.” Johnny scrambles back on all fours like a belly up crab, wide eyed. Tony doesn’t believe this is the first time a womans drawn a weapon him. “Darcy---” 

 

Darcy stalks forward, and Tony’s probably close enough to stop her, but he thinks she probably won’t shoot him.  She was pretty pissed about him not calling -it was a dick move- and he figures this tantrum is earned. 

 

“You almost  _ killed _ Tony,” she flips the safety,  and Tony realizes this isn’t about the date. This is about him.  He moves, crossing the scorched green grass. “Tony said no fire! What part of  _ don’t set me on fire  _ is so fucking difficult for you to understand, you idiot!  If you’d taken a fucking minute to listen, you would have known that they neutralize fire---” 

 

She has him backed against a park bench - a familiar one actually, he thinks it might be the one he and Darcy woke handcuffed too - moving too fast for Johnny to get his feet under him.  He scrambles up to the bench, back pressed against the wood. She presses the gun up under his chin and yeah, Tony should - he really should --

 

But Johnny’s still talking, and Tony can’t hear what he says but--- Darcy doesn’t like it. She  _ pistol whips _ him, hard and true, cracking the butt of the gun across his mouth.  In an instant, Cap’s behind her, taking her gun and hauling her back. She kicks out wildly, whole body straining against the iron of Steve’s arm around her waist. “Put me down! Fucking -  _ You put me down right now _ ! I swear to God, I’m gonna--- He almost got Tony killed! He fucking ---You fucking piece of shit---” 

 

Tony’s close enough that he can take her from Cap, but it’s a near thing. He gets his hands around her, crushes her face first into his chest.  “I’m okay, I’m okay.” He doesn’t know what else to say. She’s shaking all over, and he thinks she might be fucking crying, and he is...Not so great with crying. 

 

Cap turns to them, maybe to ask if she’s okay, when Johnny opens his mouth. “Crazy  _ bitch _ .” 

 

Steve...Steve doesn’t like that. 

 

Tony’s not sure, exactly, but he feels like he just watched Captain America punch himself in the face.  

 

Darcy, for her part, launches herself back at Storm and Tony barely has time to catch her around the waist. He throws her up over his shoulder, pinning her thighs down so she’ll stop fucking kicking him and carries her as far as he fucking can. 

 

She manages to get herself free of his grip by the time they’re in the thick of it again.  This time, Reed Richards makes the mistake of talking in her general radius. 

 

“We were trying to take them alive---” 

 

“I will fucking  _ feed _ you to the next one I see,” Darcy says, very seriously, and Tony hooks a hand into the belt of the cat suit, before she can launch herself forward again.  She's got the laser she nicked from his shop in her hand again, and he takes it quickly. “Do you understand?” 

 

Reed stares at her like she’s not even speaking English which is not an uncommon expression on his face.  Tony won’t deny the mans brilliant, but he’s also very much out of touch with reality. “Who are you?” 

 

“Your worst fucking nightmare.” Darcy bares her teeth, fingers twitching. Tony’s not one hundred percent she doesn’t have another weapon on her, and if the cat suit is anything like Nat’s, she probably has many, many more. “What kind of hilljack fucking idiot, loses an entire nest of carnivorous fucking space plants? Were you keeping these alive? On purpose? These are level seven hostile organics.  You don't have the clearance. ”

 

Reed looks shiftily away, and Tony’s not sure he isn’t about to see a man murdered in Central Park. “We were trying to hybrid---” 

 

Darcy waves her hand at him, like she doesn’t need to hear anything else, and taps her com. “Phil, I got a pick up for you. Yeah, the central park mess. Level Seven organics. Hazmat required.  I melted most of them.” She narrows her eyes at Reed. “I’m going to handcuff the dick bag responsible to a park bench.” 

 

True to her word, she does.  Tony doesn’t try to stop her, even when Reed squawks, indignantly, as she wrestles him to the ground. When he tries to stretch himself out, she pulls an EMP pulse button from her pocket. “I will fucking fry you, if you try it.” 

 

Natasha materializes a moment later, and takes the EMP pulse button from Darcy’s hand. “Mr. Richards,” she says, neutrally, as she takes a seat on the bench. “It’s been a while.” 

 

Reed grimaces from his sprawl on the ground. “This really was an honest mistake. We were trying to find a way to---”

 

“I’m just gonna...Take her somewhere else,” Tony says, to the group at large, when it looks like Darce’ might kick him. 

 

Darcy snarls. “Expect a bill, Doc. For Tony’s suit.” 

He blanches, eyes wide as he looks up at her. “You can’t---”

 

“ _ Your _ tentacle monsters.  _ Your _ damage.  _ Your _ incompetent team.  _ Your _ problem,” Darcy lists, mouth curled into a snarl. “And you’ve already claimed ownership. Expect a bill.”  

 

She grabs Tony, and hauls him away. “Phil,” she barks into the com. “What are we looking at for debrief?” 

 

_ “Agents on field aren't sure how to bag evidence,” _ Phil replies.  _ “Or even begin clean up.” _

 

“I suggest soap,” Darcy growls, and Tony's certain he's never seen her this mad. Not even when Fury called her a secretary. “Lye powder neutralizes the acid.  Should be baggable. I'm leaving, and I'm taking Tony---”

 

“Agent Lewis----”

 

“I'm not an Agent. And I'm leaving. Call us for debrief. And I want Johnny Storm and Reed Richards under fire for this, Phil. You do it, or I will.  And we both know how you feel about vigilante justice.”

 

“ _ Understood _ ,” Phil replies, mildly. 

 

She shoves him up into the protojet, reaching in to pull at the restraints.  Tony’s seen the specs for the prototype, signed off on the project three years past. “Isn't this made for one person?” 

 

“Yep.” Darcy doesn’t so much as crack a smile, as she climbs in after him, and seats herself in his lap. It's a tight fit, but the restraint allow it, and Tony makes himself comfortable by hooking his chin over her shoulder.  The cockpit closes, and Darcy hunches down a little, hooking her legs over the outside of Tony's, so the steering panel can fit between her spread thighs.  “Jarvis, take us home.”

 

“I'll teach you to fly it,”Tony murmurs into the mess of her hair.  She’s trembling all over, rage and fear. “For real.”

 

They're flush together, top to toe, and the warm weight of her body on his is so strangely soothing, he wraps his arms around her and pulls her closer.

 

Darcy doesn't say much, even as Jarvis lands the plane on the lab doc. She hustles him through the lab, and Tony allows it with silent amusement. He hasn't stayed in the loft in over two weeks -dragging himself up to the penthouse is easier now, knowing she's there.  

 

He wants to read more into the way she slams him against the door and kisses him.  It's frantic, and hard and she's pressed so tight against him, he can't help but push back, and respond. He wants it to mean more, but it  _ doesn't _ and Tony can't let her cut herself on him, even if it means getting what he wants. She's scared, and this is just what she does. 

 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he mutters, quiet and slow as he eases her body away from his own, hands on her shoulders even as she reaches for the front of his jeans. If he didn’t really fucking love her, Tony thinks to himself, he couldn’t bring himself to stop her. But he does, so he does. “C’mon, Darce’, I'm okay. I'm fine. You made it in time. You don't gotta do this.”

 

She looks up at him, sharp eyes narrowed, finger tips hooked over the top of his belt buckle.  “Maybe I want to.” 

 

He wishes she did. And maybe she does, on some levels. Fucking and fighting; Tony gets it. But she doesn't want to, like he does, and Tony...says no. He’s not like Clint, content to be used.  Not by Darcy, anyway. He's not like any of the men who so gleefully fuck her, take happily what she offers, without loving her too. Doesn't understand how they can possibly live with such a small part of her. So, Tony says no. It might be a first.

 

“Yeah, well maybe I don't.” 

  
  


Darcy jerks against him, hand flying to the door knob, mouth pulled into a grim, hard line. “Hey, wait, no. Stay. Just. Stay?” He settles his hands back on her shoulders, a safe enough place. “I'm really okay.”

 

“You almost weren't.” Her hands are at her sides again, balled into fists, and she's not looking at him.  She looks so fucking angry, Tony can’t stand it. 

 

He pulls her into a hug.  He's... Maybe not great at hugging. Hugging is strange, the concept of pressing your body against another, not for sex but for comfort, has always seemed odd. It makes sense now though, in the way she fits against him.  Tony wraps as much of himself around her as he can.  “That kind of comes with the territory.” 

 

“I don't like it.” Her words are muffled against his chest, breath hot through his shirt. “I was already on my way, when I saw Jonny smash into you and I just ---- I  _ lost _ it. I know....I know I should have stayed out if it. I know---”

Tony pulls the com out of her ear, pressing the button on the side to deactivate it, and does the same for his own, throwing them on the table beside the door. “I'm glad you came.” He is. He's not going to lecture her about the dangers; Darcy knows them. She isn't a civilian. Half his team is made of squishy humans with superb tech and more bravery than brains.  Bravery, stupidity, brass balls. He won’t discount Darcy for being the same. “You did good.” 

 

She sighs, tension draining from her body on the exhale, and lays her cheek against his shoulder. “Sorry my fear-reflex is sex. Kind of a dick move. My bad.” 

 

“Mine is to smash everything; yours sounds like more fun.” But possibly, Tony thinks, more destructive. “I find it’s best to just treat it like a hangover.” 

 

“Drink it off?” 

 

A small, helpless laugh escapes him, and he presses his smile into her hair. “I’d say yes, but we’re really going to have to go in for debrief. Sleep it off?” 

 

She nods against him. “I do like naps.” 

Darcy sits on the edge of the bed to unbuckle her boots while Tony rummages through the closet for something that doesn’t smell like fear-sweat and sushi.  “I’m digging the suit though,” Tony tells her, even she unzips it.  He turns to find her laying it over the footboard, the slithery material pooling on the edge of the bed like a puddle.  She doesn’t take the offered sleep pants, or shirt, sliding between his sheets in her bra and panties. The sight of her body bared to him isn’t any less devastating for its frequency. There’s so much of her he hasn’t touched and it’s a tragedy.  Hesitating, for only a moment, Tony tosses the shirt aside. Vanity pulls at the edges of his concious; the scars are ugly, raised and twisted. 

  
  


***

 

Darcy’s kept longer at SHIELD for debrief, given that she has no technical affiliation to either Team Avenger or Team Fantastic. Tony’s already processing the paperwork to list her as an affiliate when Nat corners him outside the boardroom Darcy’s being grilled in. 

 

Natasha leans against the wall beside him. She’s not in her catsuit, but her civilian wear tends to run along the same side of intimidating.  Tony’s mostly immune to it. “They call her your bulldog.”

Tony looks up from his phone, only half interested in whatever Nat has to say. “Who?” 

 

“Darcy.” Her tone is neutral. Her tone is always neutral. It’s as much a weapon as it is a defense mechanism. “SHIELD calls her Tony Stark's Bulldog. They say she won’t let anyone so much as touch you.” 

 

“We both know Clint’s told you otherwise.” After all, Darcy hadn’t made him sign a NDA form, and it’s no secret that there are no secrets between Nat and Barton.  They’re lovers, even if that love comes with a few revolving doors. Tony would think Natasha was possibly a robot, if it weren’t for Clint.  He’s seen Natasha kill people, for Clint, without so much as thinking to hesitate. 

She smiles a little at that, a curl so small Tony would miss it if he didn’t know her. “You know that’s not what I meant.” 

 

Tony tucks his phone away and looks at her face. She’s attempting to look soft, approachable, understanding. It doesn’t look right on her face, and makes him uncomfortable. “So tell me what you mean.” 

 

She doesn’t, but then, that isn’t all that shocking. “Darcy’s inclination to avoid romantic entanglement made her an optimal agent. Emotions tend to make people irrational and harder to control.”  She turns, facing her body fully toward him, and Tony wills himself not to flinch. “In Darcy’s case, it makes her dangerous.” 

 

“Darcy and I aren’t entangled. Romantically.” They’re absolutely far to invested in eachothers lives, that much Tony won’t deny. 

 

“For a genius, you’re very stupid.” Natasha sighs. She honestly sighs. At him. Because of him. “She’s very protective of you Stark. And you’re in love with her.” 

 

He forces himself not to react.  She’s a spy; it’s her job to know. “Your point. Were you getting to it, or do we need to pull over at the next gas station and ask for directions?”

 

“My inclination to avoid romantic entanglements makes me an optimal Agent.” She does smile then, but it’s not a very nice smile. It’s scary and mean and gives Tony a confusing boner. “Except where Clint is concerned.” 

 

Tony sucks in a sharp, shuddery breath. “It’s not the same.” 

 

“Don’t be foolish. It doesn’t suit you.” She’s silent, if only for a moment and when she speaks, her voice is quiet and only for Tony.  “You’ll never hear me say I love him. But would you ever doubt that I did?” 

Hadn’t he just thought as much? Tony won’t lie to her. There isn’t any point. “No.” 

 

“Had she not rescued you in time, she would have killed Storm. I would have let her.” She looks away from Tony, stares up at the ceiling where Barton’s probably listening in. “It took me a very long time to understand the complexities of what I felt toward Barton. It’s like as not, that Darcy doesn’t understand either.  Such things...don’t generally concern us, and so we don’t bother to unravel them. I know it isn’t in your nature, but try for patience. You’ll probably have to convince her of her own feelings. I consider Darcy something like my младшая сестра. Little sister,” she adds, voice falling back to the flat, even thing Tony knows and trusts. She winks at him, and steps away from the wall. “She deserves a Barton of her own.” 

 

The door swings open, and Darcy steps out, scowl firm in place. It shifts, a little, as she sets her eyes on Tony. “Can we go home? I hate this place with the burn of a thousand urinary tract infections.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm totally writing a frustration fic, called Darcy Does, where she just does everyone. Main Pairing is still Darcy/Tony, but if you're frustrated by this toaster oven of a slow burn, get your kicks on Darcy Does.


End file.
